


Hot Apple Cider

by icarusinflight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cooking, M/M, basically just fluffy nonsense, hot apple cider, i mean it's called that but if you didn't guess, making stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 20:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12589644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: Step 1. Turn on the slow cooker, or bring your crockpot up to temperatureIt was already going wonky at that stage, if Stiles was being honest with himself.Stiles makes hot apple cider





	Hot Apple Cider

**Author's Note:**

> This is just fluffy nonsense.
> 
> Unbeta's, all errors are my own. I love hot apple cider.

**Step 1. Turn on the slow cooker, or bring your crockpot up to temperature**

“Derek.” Stiles calls out, his head buried in the kitchen cupboard. “Derek, where’s the crockpot?”

When the voices answers him, it’s so much closer than he had anticipated. “Why do you want crockpot?”

“Jesus.” Stiles exclaims, slamming his head into the top of the cupboard, before falling back onto his ass. His hands shoot to his head, pressing his fingers pressing hard against the spot he’d just slammed into the cupboard. “Jesus, could you not fucking do that Derek? Why are you such a creeper wolf?”

Derek sighs, like he’s the most annoying thing he has to deal with, and  _ rude _ , Derek has to deal with Isaac on the regular, he has nothing on Isaac.

Or Erica.

“To cook something, duh.” He tells Derek a little smugly, “I’m making hot apple cider.”

“Is that really cooking? If you cook it you remove all the alcoholic content.”

He’s not really sure, so he defaults to defensive.

“Shut up.”

Derek does shut up, but the grin on his face speaks for him.

Derek grabs the crock pot out of the baking dish drawer, and yeah, it makes sense that it lived in there.

He places the dish on the burner, before turning to face Stiles.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No.” Stiles says adamantly, “I’ve got this under control.”

He doesn’t really believe the words, but cooking is nine tenths confidence right?

**Step 2. Add 2 quarts apple cider to crock pot or slow cooker, add 6 cinnamon sticks to cider**

“What’s wrong?”

“I have about a third of a bottle left over.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?”

“Well I don’t want it to go to waste.”

“So drink it.”

“But it’s warm.”

“Stiles you’re making hot apple cider.” Derek points out.

“Yes, but... “ He struggles to explain himself. “But that’s hot apple cider. This is just… cider. Warm cider. That’s not what I want to drink.”

Derek shrugs.

Stiles echos the shrug and tips the rest of the bottle into the crockpot. “Whatever. It won’t make that much of a difference.”

_ He hopes. _

He throws the cinnamon quills in and he might not be religious, but he also knows that enough supernatural things have happened to him, that he can suspend belief for a while, and says a little prayer to any cooking gods out there.

Derek would probably know their names.

The crockpot looks a little fizzy, and just has cinnamon quills floating in it. It doesn’t look very appealing.

Maybe he should have offered a sacrifice too.

**Step 3. Take 1 medium orange. With a toothpick, poke holes around the orange, about 1/2 to 1 inch apart.**

“Derek is this a medium orange? Is it medium  _ enough? _ ”

Derek had retreated to the living room after the warm cider incident.

Not that Stiles could blame him. He’s actually a very competent cook. Maybe not Derek level, but new recipes stress him. He wants to know all the steps, and wants to follow it perfectly, whereas Derek can adapt on the fly. He told him once that he used to help his dad out a lot in the kitchen, that cooking is usually calming for him, a process he falls into when he gets home.

Not for Stiles. 

Derek is a good boyfriend though, and he comes into the kitchen to have a look, slipping in behind Stiles, looping his arms around Stiles’s waist, and dropping his chin onto Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles relaxes into the hold.

“The orange looks plenty medium enough Stiles. I think it will be fine.”

“Okay.” Stiles acquiesces, picking up the toothpick and lining it up against the orange peel. “Okay, cool, holes in the orange, half an inch to an inch apart. Easy.”

**Step 4. Place 2 tablespoons whole cloves in orange**

He can’t even see all the holes he left in the orange. He tries to shove the cloves in the barely there holes, and they go in, but it takes some convincing. 

Still, he’s not repoking all the holes again. He can make this work.

Midway through though, he’s starting to reconsider.

His thumb hurts, and half the cloves disintegrate as he attempts to push them into the orange.

“Ughhhh,” he complains, “Why are there so many. Two tablespoons is way more than I expected.”

When he doesn’t get any response he complains again.

“Dereeeeek. My thumb hurts from the toothpick and cloves. Can’t you do this?”

“No.” The gruff voices responds from the living room, where Derek had retreated back to the safety of his book.

“You suck.” He called out. “Your thumb would heal in no time. My thumb will hurt all day.”

“Haven’t you got it under control?” Derek asks.

Stiles doesn’t dignify that with a response. He stops his progress with the cloves to shoot a scowl in Derek’s direction, not that Derek can see it. He continues shoving cloves into orange, internally cursing his weak human thumb.

**Step 5. Place orange into the cider in the slow cooker**

The cider was already pretty hot. He knows that because he accidently put his fingers into the cider when he was placing the orange in. This resulted in him flinching, dropping the orange into the cider, and therefore splashing more cider onto his fingers.

He shoves his fingers into his mouth, and sucks on them to ease the pain. They’re not burnt, thankfully, but it still stung.

Stupid pain giving orange.

**Step 6. Cook on low for 4 hours**

“Four hours is so long.” He gripes as he drops down onto the couch next to Derek.

He’s set the timer on his phone, and he’ll check on the cider’s progress whenever he’s up. He’d known it would take this long, but it seems so much longer now that he’s actively  _ waiting _ .

Derek doesn’t even look up from his book as he answers; “You know when I make pork belly it’s 8 hours.”

“Yes but that’s you! You have way more patience than me. And your pulled pork is like, ridiculously delicious.”

It’s true. It’s one of his favourite dishes that Derek makes. Along with his lasagna from scratch, moussaka, harissa chicken… He loves pretty much anything Derek cooks him really.

“It better be worth it.” He grumbles, tucking himself into Derek’s side. Derek, for his part is so used to it that he just wraps his arm around Stiles and continues his book, as Stiles boots up Netflix, and settles in for the long haul.

**Step 7. Ladle into mugs with an ounce of rum if desired. Place a cinnamon stick in each glass if desired and serve.**

“With rum if desired.” Stiles scoffs. “Of course I desire. In what world would I turn down rum?”

He opens the glasses cupboard. “Glasses? Or mugs?” He frowns at the cupboard as he thinks, before grabbing the scotch glasses. “Glasses.” He answers himself, before Derek says anything. 

Stiles grabs the rum he usually has with ginger beer, pours a shot of it into the glass, before looking up at Derek. “Rum for you?”

“No.”

“I can get you the wolfsbane laced rum if you want?” Stiles offers

“No.” Derek repeats, this time with a shake of his head. “Just the cider please.”

Stiles grabs the pair of glasses and moves them nearer to the crockpot. When he lifts the lid off the pot, Derek leans over, breathing in deeply.

“Smells good.” Derek says with a smile.

“Good. That’s good. Smelling good is good. Just needs to taste good now too.” Stiles is a little nervous, and he knows it's showing with his rambling, but this was a lot of effort, and he really wants it to work out.

He carefully ladles the hot cider into the glasses.

The two glasses look the same, despite Stiles’s addition of rum, but he’s careful to keep track of his glass, holding out the rum free glass to Derek. 

“Cheers.” He says, gently knocking his glass into Derek’s when he’s taken the glass from him.

“Cheers.” Derek echoes, and they both take a sip.

He’s not sure at first. The alcohol is a little burny, and that’s all he can really taste. But the second sip confirms it.

“This is disgusting.”

Derek frowns at him. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Stiles says, stepping to the sink and tipping his glass down the drain, watching the amber liquid as it swirls, before draining away. “It’s gross. That’s all there is to it.”

Stiles holds his hand out to take Derek’s glass and do the same, but Derek keeps the glass held tight, away from Stiles’s reaching fingers.

“Do you really think I’d lie to save your feelings Stiles?” Derek takes another sip of the cider. Stiles is watching closely, and there’s no outward sign that he actually hates the drink, no grimace or face pulling. 

“Maybe? I’m sure you have before.”

Derek shrugs. “I might have. But I wouldn’t with this. I like it.” Derek takes another sip of his own glass. “Maybe it was the rum?”

Stiles throws his hand on his chest dramatically. “How dare you? Rum would never betray me like that.”

Derek just rolls his eyes. He holds out his glass to Stiles. “Just try some. If you don’t like it, I’ll drink it.”

Stiles eyes the glass suspiciously, but when Derek presses it into his hands he take it from him.

He’s a little tempted to just tip it down the sink as well. He’s not entirely sure that Derek isn’t lying to him, or maybe it’s just a weird werewolf taste thing. Or maybe a weird Derek taste thing.

Or he could be punking him, waiting for Stiles to drink more of the disgusting liquid.

Derek raises his eyebrows at him.

“If this is disgusting I’m totally throwing it on you.” He says, before taking a sip from the glass.

Derek wasn’t lying. 

It must have been the rum which ruined, which, honestly hurts him a little because,  _ rum _ . 

But that feeling is drowned out by the joy that he feels over the fact that it tastes  _ good _ .

He says as much to Derek.

“It’s a little bitter.” Derek replies, attempting to ruin his happiness, “I think maybe if you added some orange juice, or cut the orange in two, or maybe a little brown sugar it would be better next time.”

“Don’t try and ruin this for me.” Stiles tells him, taking another long sip of the drink.

“Okay.” Derek steps up into his space, wrapping his arms around him. “You did good babe.”

Derek places a kiss on his forehead. “Am I going to get my glass back?”

“Nope.” Stiles tugs the glass into his chest. The glass is warm in his hands, and the smell of it is even better than the taste. “I guess I might share with you though.”

Derek huffs at him. “So generous.”

“I know right. You’re so lucky to have a boyfriend as generous as me.”

“I am lucky to have a boyfriend like you.” Derek agrees.

It’s definitely the warmth of the hot cider which heats up his cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the recipe from the fic https://www.kitchentreaty.com/slow-cooker-hot-spiced-apple-cider/  
> I made this in Australia on a hot day so don't ever say I don't suffer for my fics
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life   
> Find me at tumblr at [candybarrnerd](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/candybarrnerd)


End file.
